


Our House is a Very Very Very Fine House

by LaDonnaErrante



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Community: rs_games, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, R/S Games 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8207219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaDonnaErrante/pseuds/LaDonnaErrante
Summary: R/S Games 2016 - Day 5 - Team Place“Life used to be so hard / Now everything is easy 'cause of you and our -- house...” Basically an OotP fix-it fic, with an (almost) everybody lives ending!





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Team:** Place  
>  **Title:** Our House is a Very Very Very Fine House  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Warnings:** some swearing, mentions of canon-character deaths pre-OotP  
>  **Genre:** AU, H/C, some angst  
>  **Word Count:** 16,000  
>  **Summary:** “Life used to be so hard / Now everything is easy 'cause of you and our -- house...”  
>  **Notes:** Basically an OotP fix-it fic, with an (almost) everybody lives ending. My unending gratitude to my dear friend, writing accountability partner and beta N!  
>  **Prompt:** #5 - ["Our House" by Crosby, Stills, and Nash](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fm-q0ELuk1A)

**I. I’ll Light the Fire**  
It was a quiet evening just after midsummer and the sun had not yet begun to set in Yorkshire. Remus was doing the washing up from dinner when a patronus flew through the window, startling him into dropping a plate. Dumbledore’s voice emerged from the silvery bird. 

“Voldemort has returned. Sirius on his way to you. Await further instructions.” 

Remus felt his stomach lurch. He stepped away from the tiny kitchen, sinking into a raggedy chair. His mind raced. Despite knowing Dumbledore’s suspicions and having followed the story of Professor Quirrell in the _Prophet_ , he hadn’t expected this. And Sirius was coming here. Now. He took a deep breath and steadied himself, counting to five before forcing himself up and out of the chair. 

He looked around the cottage, which was in quite a state of disarray, and he decided that the only sensible place to start was to finish the washing up. 

Embarrassment came over Remus as he looked around. Half of the stones in the front wall were missing, and others were crumbling. Mostly the spells kept out the wind and the rain, but even in the summer it was chilly at night. Reinforcement charms were the only reason the walls were still standing. Over the front half of the cottage, the roof was missing and shielding spells were protecting the sitting room, kitchen and bath from the elements. Mostly Remus had gotten used to it, and even enjoyed it on clear evenings, like this one. As the summer sun was setting, purple twilight suffused the house. The sitting room was fairly bare; it held just a lumpy settee, a threadbare armchair, a small writing desk and an old upright piano. Every conceivable surface was covered with books and parchment, including the worktop in the kitchen and settee. Stacks of books without shelves lined the walls. A thick layer of dust rested on the books. 

With no job and no prospects, he had been trying to save firewood for winter, and the hearth was dark. But it wouldn’t do for Sirius to think times had been hard. Looking around, he decided that the only sensible place to start was to finish the washing up. 

Remus lit a fire as the twilight turned to dark; he tidied and awaited Sirius. After changing the sheets in the bedroom, he laid sheets and blankets on the settee. He hummed as he busied himself with those little tasks readying the house for the first guest he’d had since the night Dumbledore had come to offer him the position at Hogwarts, nearly two years before. 

It didn’t seem like much time had passed before he heard the sound of wings beating. And when he went outside, he saw Sirius and Buckbeak high in the air, circling above the wards. The night sky was blanketed with stars and the faint light of the waning moon. Remus lowered the wards and sent up a shower of green sparks. He watched as the enormous creature began its descent, circling slowly, lower and lower until Buckbeak came to a stop not two feet from where Remus was standing. He bowed low while Sirius dismounted and Buckbeak bowed in return. 

“You can put him in the byre. Plenty of rats there for him to feed on. I’ll put the kettle on.”

Sirius nodded and led Buckbeak into the byre, which was nearly in shambles, but there was a corner that had been cleared out and the floor strewn with fresh straw. Giving Buckbeak a pat on the neck and wishing him goodnight, Sirius made his way into the cottage. 

Remus had the kettle whistling on the hob and was rooting around in the cupboard for something when the door banged open behind him, and he started. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Remus answered after a moment, “I’m just not used to… people.” 

“Ah.” Sirius said. He stood still, holding his arms and feeling unsure about what to do or say.

“Hungry?” Remus asked. 

“Famished,” Sirius answered with a grateful smile. 

Remus set out biscuits, some cheese, and bread along with the tea. 

Sirius sat down, fidgeting a bit with a spoon. The kettle whistled and Remus poured the tea, adding milk and sugar. 

“Just a little milk and--”

“—three lumps of sugar,” Remus finished. “I remember how you take your tea, Sirius.” There was an edge in Remus’ voice. He still hadn’t looked Sirius in the eye. As he set Sirius’ cup in front of him, Sirius’ hand grabbed his wrist lightly. Remus looked at it and could see the long fingers bent and curved a bit, arthritic looking. Finally, Remus looked up at him, biting his lip anxiously. He met Sirius’ dark grey eyes and saw the glimmer of hope that rested there. It clashed with his thin, worn body and stringy greasy hair. Remus’ eyes softened, a barely discernable smile of relief played on his lips. He gave Sirius’ hand a light squeeze before sitting in the chair across the small, scratched-up table. They sipped their tea in an almost-comfortable silence. 

The night was short and the sky was just beginning to lighten and the moon starting to set when Remus finally asked Sirius what happened and Sirius recounted what had transpired at the Triwizard Tournament.

“Dumbledore’s reforming the Order,” Sirius finished. 

Remus frowned. “We lost so many before. There aren’t enough of us left.” 

“What’s the alternative?” 

Remus sighed. “True. The Ministry won’t be any help, then…”

“We’ll just wait and see, I guess. Though we should probably get some sleep. You look knackered.” 

Remus agreed. “Bad moon. Still recovering. I’ll make up the couch?” he said softly, getting up from the table. 

“You don’t have to,” Sirius said rather quickly, “er…I mean, if you want to it's fine. I know it’s been a while but...” 

“No, it’s okay.” Remus said awkwardly, “I just didn’t want to assume. I’d have thought…well…. never mind.” 

“What? Tell me.”

“It’s only, I thought, since you hadn’t wanted to stay here this past year, that you…well that you might not want to share now. Albus sent you here. So, it’s okay if you don’t want to, anymore.” 

“Remus.” Sirius’ voice was low and rough. “The only reason I didn’t come straight here when you asked last summer was to protect you. If they had found me, if they knew you were hiding me...I wasn’t going to be responsible for that.” 

Remus let go of his carefully held mask just slightly, and a brief expression of relief crossed his face before he just looked at Sirius fondly, though he said, “We’re not at school anymore, you don’t need to protect me.” There was none of the heat in it that Sirius would have expected in the days before Azkaban. 

Sirius scrubbed his face with a hand, sighing deeply. “I know, Remus. I do.” His voice trailed off. 

“C’mon, then.” Remus said and he jerked his head in the direction of a small corridor which led to the bedroom and bathroom. The bathroom, like much of the front part of the cottage was missing its roof, but Remus rather liked being able to see the myriad stars of the deep countryside from his small tin tub. He filled it with an _aguamenti_ charm and heated the water with another spell. Sirius grinned; even small, everyday magic seemed luxurious now. 

“I’ll just…” Remus motioned towards the door and started to move out of the small room. 

“Stay?” Sirius asked, “it’s nice to have company.” 

Remus nodded mutely and turned his head as Sirius began to pull off his tattered robes. “Merlin’s beard, Remus. You’ve seen me change loads of times. What has gotten into you?”

Remus went red in the face. “I…I just thought, you’d…y’know. Want a bit of privacy. Most people would.” 

Remus looked up and saw Sirius’ hairy chest, so skinny that his ribs showed, and his grimy stomach sunken beneath bony ribs, his hip bones jutting out. Sirius heard Remus’ sharp intake of breath and looked away from him, heat rising in his cheeks. He curled in on himself slightly, ashamed. 

Remus recovered hastily and teased, “Of course, I’ve forgotten that you’re Sirius Black. The man who whips of his kit and shows off his goods at the slightest suggestion.” Sirius snorted. “How many times did I have to stop you from dropping trow after a quidditch match.”

Sirius felt his muscles relax and couldn’t stop himself from smiling, “How was the Slytherin team to kiss my lovely arse if it wasn’t presented to them?”

“A swift kick would have been more like it. Now get that bony arse of yours into the bath. I’d like to at least get some sleep before Albus comes calling.” 

Sirius slipped gingerly into the hot water, hissing at the heat and then groaning as it soaked into his sore muscles. He let his arms and legs go limp, allowing himself to feel their aching exhaustion. His knees and ankles throbbed painfully, but suspended in the hot water, the aching seemed somehow far away. Remus pulled out a box of Epsom salts and added some to the water. Then, he conjured a stool and sat at Sirius’ head quietly, while Sirius closed his eyes and allowed the sensation to wash over him. They sat in silence until Remus pulled out a flannel and a bar of soap, holding them out to Sirius. 

“Would you?” Sirius asked cautiously. “I mean; I understand if not but…”

Remus swallowed hard. “Of course. Yes.” He dipped the flannel and soap into the water and began to run them over Sirius’ chest and arms. His fingers trailed gently over callouses and scars, carefully separating matted hair from the layers of caked dirt. He pushed Sirius forward tenderly to do his back, rubbing light circles across his shoulders. “Dunk your head and I’ll wash your hair.” 

Sirius did as he was asked, and Remus squirted shampoo into his hand, lathering it up and working it carefully into the long, greasy, matted mess that Sirius’ hair had become. Remus’ fingers worked into his scalp, and Sirius let out a soft moan. 

“Oh Moony…that’s--” He felt his chest tight and hot tears pool in his eyes and could not finish the sentence. 

“Do you mean to tell me that Sirius Black hasn’t washed his hair in nearly fifteen years? I can believe you survived Azkaban, but not without conditioner.” 

“Cold showers, once a week. Bar of soap for everything.” 

“Well, even though I’ve got proper shampoo, you’ll have to wait a few more days for conditioner.” Remus’ light tone was forced, but his fingers were still working their way gingerly through Sirius’ hair. 

“It’ll do for now,” Sirius said, eyes shining as he looked at Remus.

“Okay, rinse please.” 

Sirius was getting out of the tub when his knees buckled. Remus caught him, steadying him against his hip; he helped Sirius towel off and together they walked to Remus’ bedroom. Sirius sat on the bed and Remus handed him a pair of flannel PJs. 

“Remus, it’s the middle of June.”

“In Yorkshire. It gets chilly in here at night. Charms can only do so much.” And he helped Sirius into them before changing into his own. 

It had been fifteen years since they shared a bed, and it felt strange. Limbs that once fit together easily were unfamiliar. Sirius wanted to touch; it had been so long since he’d felt the warmth of another body. He’d been living on the memory of the brief hug he and Remus had shared in the Shrieking Shack. But it was awfully little to go on, and he was still trying to get used to having his own limbs back. He was sure Remus was also longing for contact, but couldn’t bring himself to, not yet. And so he laid on his back, close to Remus but not touching. And when he thought Remus was asleep, when his breathing evened out, Sirius whispered quietly:

“I love you.”

Remus’ eyes remained closed, but a hand found its way to Sirius’ chest, resting there lightly. They slept until the early afternoon. 

**II. Come to me now**  
Over the next week Remus and Sirius settled into a comfortable routine, the awkwardness melting away slowly. Sirius sent instructions for a large quantity of gold to be transferred into Remus’ account because “Now that I’m living in a real house again, I won’t be skimping on cream.” Remus knew that was only the partial truth, but he couldn’t find a way to object to the charity without looking like a complete arse. Besides, Sirius needed to put weight back on. Wary of saying anything to throw off the delicate balance that they were finding, Remus found it easier to pretend to be mother-henned than to risk mother-henning Sirius. Remus made the tea and eggs in the morning, and Sirius cooked supper. In between, Sirius mostly slept. 

Remus studied Sirius carefully, soaking in his big gestures and expressions, the ones he had missed over the past fifteen years, but also trying to make sense of the changes he saw there. It wasn’t only the malnutrition that made Sirius skinnier than he had any right to be. There was a creak in his knees and an ache in his fingers that hadn’t been there before. Remus noticed on the third day, when, having finally had a proper shampoo, Sirius used Remus’ wand to cut his hair. The wand slipped through his grip several times, each time Sirius swore under his breath. When, halfway through, Remus had seen Sirius trying to shake a cramp out of his hand, he entered the bathroom and met Sirius’ eyes in the mirror. Shame played on Sirius’ face. There was yet another difference; Sirius no longer masked his shame with boyish anger. 

“Let me?” Remus asked gently, picking up the wand from where it had fallen into the sink.

“Don’t bollocks it up. I still haven’t forgiven you for that travesty in fourth year.” 

“That was a prank. And a pretty good one too, I’d say if you’re still sore about it twenty years later.” 

Sirius rolled his eyes, but allowed Remus to finish the haircut. In as off-hand a tone as he could manage, Remus said “I’ve got some cream that might help,” as he rummaged through the bathroom cabinet. He pulled out an orange lotion. “It’s muggle, but it works a treat on nerve and bone pain.” Sirius swallowed thickly, and nodded. 

“Here.” Remus poured out a small portion onto two fingers, and took Sirius’ hands in his, rubbing the lotion in, paying special attention to the joints. When he looked back up at Sirius’ face, there were tears rolling down Sirius cheeks. He swiped at them with a thumb, caressing Sirius’ cheek, and Sirius let out the sob he had been holding in. He lowered them to the floor and they sat on the cold green tile with their backs leant against the tub. Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius’ slim, shaking shoulders and held on as the sobs racked his body. 

 

 

**III. The Windows are Illuminated**

It had rained all day without stopping and as the sun set, late one evening, the cottage was chilly. The sitting room had been cleaned up since Sirius’ arrival; Remus had mended the tears in the settee’s upholstery, and most of the books were stacked neatly on shelves instead of scattered about the room. There were still piles of books on the dust-covered piano sitting in one corner of the room. A roaring fire was going in the hearth, heating the room. Sirius laid on the settee, wrapped in a couple of old blankets, and Remus puttered in the kitchen. When he brought the tea tray in, Sirius grabbed his hand and pulled him down to sit beside him. 

“You’re making me nervous. Stop fussing.” 

“Ummm, okay.” 

“It’s a rainy day. You’re supposed to be curled up with a good book and a cuppa, in front of the fire.” 

“Well as you know, the dishes don’t wash themselves, but I’ve finished now.” 

“Remus.” Sirius poked him in the side. “You’re a wizard. The dishes can do themselves just fine.” 

“Well, I like doing the dishes by hand. It’s relaxing.” 

“Good to know you’re as weird as ever, Lupin,” Sirius said fondly. 

Remus rolled his eyes and poured the tea and settled into an armchair with his feet on a footstool. 

They were sat in comfortable silence, reading for a while when Sirius poked Remus again. 

“Piano doesn’t look like it’s been touched in a long time. Do you still play?”

“Oh, er...rarely. It’s out of tune and getting the piano tuner out here is a bit of a challenge.”

“Why can’t they floo?”

“Werewolf, remember.” 

Sirius grimaced for a moment, then hastily put on a mischievous expression, “Go on, then. Play us something nice.” 

“It’s out of tune,” Remus protested rather weakly, he was already standing and walking toward the piano. 

“Doesn’t have to be Beethoven.” 

Remus shot him an annoyed look and began clearing away the books and debris that had piled up. “You know very well that I loathe Beethoven.” Sirius laughed. Remus gave it a quick tergeo before sitting down and playing a scale. Then he began to play in earnest. 

“You’d think people would have had enough of silly love songs/I look around me and I see it isn’t so…”

Sirius stared at the fire, watching the flames lick at the logs as he listened. The piano did need tuning rather badly, but Remus was on key, and his voice hadn’t changed. It was an ordinary voice, low and smooth. Sirius had tried to hold on to the memory of it in Azkaban, tried to return to nights huddled around a bonfire, all of them singing raucously and Remus’ steady voice keeping them together. But it hadn’t been long before the Dementors had started to take those memories too, and he had buried the sound of Remus’ singing. The end of the song brought him out of his reverie. Remus looked over at him, and they smiled at each other. 

“Give us another one, Moony.” 

Remus struck the opening chords of “I Know Where I’m Going.” When Remus reached the line, “Some say he’s Black, but I say he’s bonnie,” he threw a wink at Sirius, who responded with a melodramatic swoon. And they ended the evening laughing. 

 

**IV. Staring at the Fire**

In the largest sitting room at Grimmauld Place, Sirius watched as Remus slept; the wolf was curled up in a corner at the edge of the hearth, twitching slightly in his sleep. Sirius had been on edge for days, trying his hardest to pick a fight to distract himself from feeling as though he wanted to crawl out of his skin. And Remus, annoying genius that he was, had gently refused to give it to him, until Sirius suggested a midnight romp during the full moon. Remus’ mouth had gone slack, his eyes full of pain. “How can you even contemplate such a stupid risk. You’ll get us both killed.” Blood had risen in Sirius’ face, angry and embarrassed. But Remus had just turned his back and left the room. 

It was easy to hid there; the house was big enough that with just two people living there you could avoid your housemate for days. And Sirius had. He hid out in Buckbeak’s room, wandered the cellar, slept in various bedrooms, lost track of time. He had spent a lot of time hiding in this house. Sometimes he and Reggie had squeezed in together in the closet on the second floor landing, waiting quietly for his father to stop yelling, small hearts pounding. It was his first prison, and most days it still felt like he would never escape it. He half expected Remus to come find him, drag him back to their bed and talk some sense into him. But he hadn’t. 

When Sirius saw the the big yellow moon in the window, he went looking for Remus. It hadn’t been difficult to find him; he was in the sitting room with the most comfortable couch, where they spent most of their evenings. Sirius was relieved to find him there, comforted to know that Remus wanted to be found.

It was strange to be with the wolf in the city, where the moon was visible but could not compete with the city lights. He felt at odds with this reality, sitting in a comfortable room, the wolf snoring quietly. There was a yearning in his chest for the nights where the forest was lit by a full moon, and they had the freedom to run and hunt. And then he felt guilty about it, because at least this way was relatively painless for Remus. 

Sirius sighed and stood up. He stretched before transforming into Padfoot and laying down at the opposite end of the hearth. Sometime in the night, the wolf had moved closer to him, and when he awoke, Remus was lying next to him, shivering in the early morning chill. 

Sirius tried telling himself that it was a step in the right direction, but Remus hadn’t spoken to him all day. That night, after Remus had gone to relieve Arthur from guard duty, Sirius went upstairs to Buckbeak’s room, slamming the door behind him. He pulled out a couple of rats that Remus had managed to procure from a medical lab supply. The room smelled strongly of ammonia and bird feces; Sirius gagged. He hadn’t cleaned it out in several days, distracted by his gloom. Casting a quick episky and a perfuming charm, he sat in a corner, back hunched. Buckbeak’s great yellow eye was fixed on him. He sighed. “Reckon I’ve been a bit grumpy, eh?” Buckbeak didn’t blink, he just kept taking bits of flesh off the rat and gobbling them down. After he finished, he began to dance impatiently, pacing from one end of the large room to the other and occasionally bumping his head against the door. 

“Sorry friend, but even if you could roam the house, we can’t go out. And there isn’t a garden here.” 

Buckbeak gave an angry chirp. 

“Don’t get snippy with me. S’not my fault we’re stuck in here.” He made as if to run towards Sirius, who ducked out of the way. “Oi! Not okay!” Sirius shouted and slipped out the door, leaving Buckbeak on his own. 

He roamed the enormous house rather aimlessly, slamming doors and muttering about big dumb horse-birds that don’t understand a thing and annoying werewolves that always think they know best, until he plopped into an armchair in a dark sitting room on the third floor where he crossed his arms, tucked his knees up under him. That was where Remus found him pouting when he returned from duty the next morning. 

“Cup of tea?” he asked with false joviality. 

“No,” Sirius answered darkly. 

“Suit yourself, then.” But Remus brought a tray with the pot and two cups in anyway and lit the wall sconces with a wave of his hand. “Now. We are going to have this out like adults. I’m going to pour you a cup of tea; whether you drink it or not is up to you. And then you are going to tell me what’s actually eating you, because we both know that being stuck is driving you nuts. And then you’re going to apologize for taking it out on me.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but accepted the cup of tea from Remus’ hands without protest. “It’s just Snivellus. And old Dumbles. He won’t let me do anything. I’m so ruddy bored. And I’m stuck by myself in this stupid house with nothing to do and no one to keep me company.” 

Remus raised an eyebrow at that. 

Sirius huffed. “You’re gone half the time. Being useful. And I’ve got no one but that bloody bird.” 

“Sirius, you managed with that bloody bird for eight months in a cave last year.” 

“He’s mad at me. Doesn’t like being stuck inside. And it’s not even my fault, but he nearly pecked a hole in my shoulder.” 

Remus tried to give him a reproving look, but it’s a poor attempt to hide a smile. Sirius glared at him and then, burst into laughter, having the grace to look slightly chagrined. They were both in stitches in no time, Sirius laughing so hard that tears were rolling down his cheeks. Remus tried to take a couple of deep breaths, but they were shaky. He had almost succeeded in calming himself down when Kreacher walked past, turned to look at them, and with an expression of utter disgust, stalked off again. “Nutters.” This caused Remus to collapse again, laughing helplessly as Sirius tried to speak. Between giggles and gasping for air, he managed to squeeze out a croaky “Why are we laughing so hard?” 

It was several long seconds before Remus could answer. “Catharsis, I expect.” He hiccoughed. “Ancient Greeks had it right I expect: Shits and Giggles.” And Remus fell back into paroxysms of laughter.

“Is this what a year without teaching has done to you? Mad professor Lupin, making etymological poop jokes.” 

Remus threw him a V but he was still laughing too hard to talk. “Old Umbridge could use a good catharsis, I bet.”

Sirius got slowly to his feet, muscles stiff and joints aching, and offered Remus a hand up. “I’ve been a grumpy bugger, haven’t I?” 

“It’s like been living with Sirius Black, age sixteen all over again.” 

“It’s a bit like being sixteen again, trapped in this stupid house, my mother shouting at me.”

“It’s just a portrait, an echo.”

“Yeah, I know. Only it’s worse because there’s nothing to do all day. Nothing to distract me from thinking about…about that place.” 

“It won’t be forever,” Remus said quietly. 

“But…” 

“There’s no guarantees Sirius, I know that. But it’s what we’re fighting for. And if we can’t at least imagine it, we’re not gonna make it.” 

 

 **V. Only for You**

Dumbledore called the meeting to order with a soft cough. The din in the dining room at Grimmauld Place quieted, but whispers and rustles continued. Arthur was sitting at the end of the table, leg propped on a large velvet pouf. He was telling a slightly green-looking Arabella Figg all about the failed attempt at stitches. Sirius, Tonks and Kingsley were giggling over the _Quibbler_ ’s most recent reports on the avant-garde performance art of Stubby Boardman. McGonagall rapped on the table and looked at them sharply. 

“Let’s begin with reports. Start us off, won’t you, Alastor.” 

Moody launched into an updated on the tracking spells he was using to identify Death Eaters and Imperiused spies at the ministry. Remus let his attention wander, watching Sirius closely. Sirius, who was leaning back in his chair, tipping it on two legs as if he was still at school. He had been sullen since the winter hols had ended, but having people around again for the meeting seemed to help marginally. 

At least, until Snape began his report. Voldemort, it seemed, had already convinced the dementors to join him and was arranging a mass breakout from Azkaban. Snape did not, Remus noticed, manage to finish without snarling a truly unnecessary comment about the precedent for escape that had been set by a certain Order member. 

Sirius leaned forward, the front two legs of his chair landing on the floor with a bang. Minerva coughed sharply and fixed him with a stern look. Finally, they were onto Diggle’s recruitment report, to which Remus needed to pay attention. Six new members would be attending orientation in the next fortnight, there was a smattering of applause. Recruits were sorely needed given Podmore’s arrest and Arthur’s injuries. 

“Excellent work,” Dumbledore cut in, bringing the room to silence. “Recent events have brought to my attention certain critical pieces of information that I believe could ensure the total and lasting success of our mission. However, it will require us to stretch our few resources even thinner.”

No one seemed very surprised, or even angry at this. There was just a murmur of annoyance. 

“Due to the extremely sensitive nature of this information,” Dumbledore continued, “I cannot share details with your, outside of the newly updated duty roster.” He flicked his wand and parchment appeared before each person with their assigned schedule. 

“From here on out there will be four teams. In addition to Recruitment and Outreach to Magical Creatures, Ministry Guard Duty, and Counterintelligence, we are creating a Search and Retrieval Team. Beginning once Lupin and Diggle have trained the new recruits, Lupin will be reassigned to Search and Retrieval. Tonks will take his place on Recruitment and Outreach. In addition, Bill, Moody, Minerva and myself shall be assigned to Search and Retrieval. Mr. Black’s duties will be expanded as well. In Moody’s stead, Kingsley will be leading Ministry Guard Duty.” 

Sirius looked shocked. Remus watched him uneasily. He barely trusted Dumbledore to keep Sirius out of harm’s way. Though he hadn’t thought confining him to Grimmauld was such a great idea, he couldn’t quite imagine something any better that would be safe after the stunt Sirius had pulled on the platform at King’s Cross. 

“I will be meeting with you individually to discuss the nature of your service to The Order. The meeting is adjourned.” 

There was a flurry of noise as people discussed their new assignments, and Dumbledore slipped quietly out of the room without another word to any of them. 

 

 **VI. Rest Your Head for Just Five Minutes**  
Dumbledore dropped in on Grimmauld Place to speak with Sirius and Remus about their new assignments on a cold Tuesday night in late January, just days after the new recruits had finished training. Remus leaned forward to pour tea into ornate china cups bearing the Black family crest. Sirius was sitting on a rather ugly olive settee, pretending nonchalance, whilst Dumbledore sat opposite them. Eyeing them both carefully, Dumbledore said, “I have come to believe that Voldemort is using horcruxes.” 

Remus blanched, though Sirius just looked confused. “Split his soul,” Remus said softly. “Albus, you said horcruxes. More than one?” 

Dumbledore nodded. Remus whistled. “How’s that even possible?” 

“You see what a problem this presents?” 

“Yes” Remus said, at the same time that Sirius said, “No!” 

“If Harry is to succeed once and for all, the horcruxes must be found and destroyed. You will be responsible for helping me to do just that.” 

Remus went stiff, but Sirius rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Finally, something I can do instead of sitting in this bloody house all day.” He gave his knuckles a crack. 

“Unfortunately Mr. Black, I’m sorry to say, but you will be doing research. From here.” Sirius’ bouncy energy deflated, and he stared hard at Dumbledore. He could feel Remus, tense with worry beside him, and so, forcing himself not to engage, he blew out a breath. Remus relaxed slightly once he understood that there wouldn’t be a scene, and he placed a hand on Sirius’ own. Dumbledore continued, “I need you start here; it is a job only you can do. You must find out exactly what happened to your brother. I suspect that the mystery surrounding his death could provide vital information for The Order.” 

Sirius’ eyes widened in surprise, and he felt Remus’ fingers squeeze his gently. 

“Bill and Minerva have already begun two lines of investigation. Whether either of them will yield the information we need remains to be seen.” 

Remus cleared his throat, and Dumbledore turned his bright blue eyes on him. “Not the werewolves again,” Sirius said tersely. 

“No Mr. Black, not the werewolves.”

“You will be searching for and taking possession of a single horcrux. We do not yet know what the receptacles are or where they are hidden. But I do know that it is likely connected to the history of the school founders, something Riddle could have got his hands on sometime after he left school. I suggest that you start by investigating the time he spent working for Borgin and Burke’s.”

Dumbledore rose to leave before Sirius put a hand up, stopping him. 

“What’s Harry to be told of this?” 

“Not a word.” 

Sirius’ eyes darkened. “How is he expected to defend himself if he doesn’t have all the information? This concerns him, just as much as the prophecy does.” 

“Mr. Black. This mission is classified. Harry must not be distracted. He must learn occlumency and he cannot be given any information that could cause him to inadvertently alert Voldemort to our plans. Or, for that matter, take matters into his own hands. His success, the future of our very world depends on it. I did not entrust you with this information because I thought you would go about telling fifteen-year-olds all about it.” Dumbledore rose, and Remus saw him out. Sirius looked at him darkly as he left but did not say anything. 

When Remus returned he wore a troubled look and he watched Sirius cautiously for a moment, hesitating, and then asked, very quietly, “You’re not going to tell him, are you?”

“What?!” Sirius looked thunderous. “Of course not. I can’t believe you would even ask me that!” 

Remus held up his hands in an appeasing gesture, “I just—“ 

“—NO. Are you kidding me? Do you really think twelve years in Azkaban made me barmy enough that I would disobey a direct order from Albus Dumbledore?” 

“No Sirius.” Remus said firmly, interrupting what was apparently the beginning of a tirade. His voice was quiet but there was a steele in his tone that caught Sirius’ attention. “I think you don’t trust Albus fully, especially where Harry is concerned. And frankly, neither do I.” 

Sirius went limp, as if someone had drained all the air out of him. He scrubbed his face with his hands. “What do we do about it then, Moony?” 

Remus sat across from him, meeting his eyes. Sirius saw a bone-deep exhaustion there. “I think Albus is telling the truth about the horcruxes. But I do think he knows more than he’s let on. So I think we do what he asks, very carefully and we keep our eyes peeled for anything that might help us keep Harry safe.” 

Sirius nodded firmly and reached out a hand. Remus took it, feeling the strength of Sirius’ grip despite the way his hands had become gnarled and weakened from years spent with Padfoot’s paws, instead of proper fingers. 

“C’mon, it’s been a long evening.” Remus said as he stood up, still holding Sirius’ hand, “Let’s go to bed.” 

Sirius followed him upstairs into the room they shared. They changed in silence, eyes avoiding the many smiling photographs of four boys in Gryffindor colors, moving along the wall. Sirius had stuck them up with permanent sticking charms to displease his father and now he couldn’t escape them. 

They slipped into bed and faced each other. Remus put an arm around Sirius, pulling him close and kissing him hard. Sirius clung to Remus, inhaling in the musky smell of him and tracing softly up and down his arms. He laid his head on Remus’ chest, listening to the steady of sound of Remus’ heartbeat and slow rhythm of his breathing. Remus rested his chin on top of Sirius’ head, eyes closed.

“I’m scared.” 

“I know. Me too too.” 

“I just…I don’t want to let Harry down again.” 

Remus opened his eyes, and looked down at Sirius, surprised. “You haven’t.” 

“I did…it’s my fault that...” Sirius’ voice broke and he closed his eyes against and took a shuddering breath. “It’s my fault that he’s an orphan. James never would have forgiven me.” 

“You thought you were protecting him. It was Peter’s choice, not yours that killed James.” 

“You can say that. But we both know I bear some of the responsibility. When James made me godfather, I swore to protect Harry. And I’ve done a pretty shit job of it up till now. You’ve done more for him than I have.” 

Remus held Sirius tightly and placed a light kiss on Sirius’ forehead. “James trusted you for good reason. You’re loyal to a fault. I trust you. Harry trusts you. I know you’re not going to mess this up. As long as you don’t do anything rash, Harry will be okay. And when this is all over—“

“—Don’t. I can’t bear lies.” 

“You and I are both smart enough to know that I can’t promise anything. But _if_ we make it out, when this is all over, I know we’ll give Harry the home he deserves. The one you would have given him fourteen years ago.” 

“Not here. Never in this house.”

Remus laughs softly, “No. Not here. We can go back to the cottage in Yorkshire, if you like. We’ll finish fixing it up. I’ll let you pay for all the ridiculous luxury fixtures you want. Harry will stay with us for holidays and you two can play quidditch in the back garden.” Remus felt Sirius relax into his arms. “I’ll play silly songs on the piano and try to cook supper. But you’ll take over, every time, because you never want to eat chicken a la banana. On rainy days we’ll build a fire and I’ll read to you. Perhaps there will be children playing in the yard. You can rebuild your vinyl collection, introduce Harry to Patti Smith.”

Sirius mumbled something sleepy and indiscernible against Remus’ side. 

“What was that?” Remus asked and Sirius lifted his face, just slightly to answer “Kneazles.” Before burying it again. 

Remus laughed softly, “Sure. If the kneazles can tolerate me, we’ll have a couple of ‘em running around. Maybe even a tyke or two of our own.” 

Remus continued to talk quietly until Sirius’ breathing evened out. He tried to fall asleep too, but the thought of that life being just out of reach kept him up. 

 

 

**VII. Life Used to Be So Hard**

The next morning was cold and wet; Remus wrapped himself in a warm cloak found in an old chest of clothes. He had transfigured his face to erase the scars and change the features enough so that he wouldn’t be recognized casing Burgin and Borke’s. Sirius was slouched against the foyer wall watching as Remus did up the buttons on the cloak. 

“Be careful.”

Remus rolled his eyes and met Sirius’ gaze in the mirror. “Yes mum,” he said, but there wasn’t any bite in it, just the soft promise that he wouldn’t do anything stupid. He turned around and backed Sirius into the wall, kissing him hard on the lips and running a finger down his cheek. Then he opened the door, stepped into the grey London winter and apparated with a crack. 

Sirius sighed and returned to the kitchen, tidying up aimlessly. Then, still in his pajamas and dressing gown, he poured himself another cup of tea. Once that was finished, he dressed, cleaned out Buckbeak’s room, and tidied the study that held the Order’s important documents. Only then, did he decide that he couldn’t put it off any longer. He climbed the stairs to the top of the house, stopping on the landing that he and Regulus had shared. He placed his hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath and pushed it open. 

The room was just as he remembered—green and silver adorned every wall. Memories rose in Sirius, of Reggie calling him names. Blood traitor. Queer. He could see the sneer he’d worn the last time they’d spoken. They were at their father’s funeral during the height of the war. Even now, Sirius wasn’t really sure why he went or what he had expected. He’d needed to see it, he supposed, needed to see the coffin sink into the ground so that he could really believe that his father was gone. It didn’t give him any comfort, the damage was done, but there had been a small part of him that had hoped for some sign of remorse, something that would signal that his father had regretted what he’d done to Sirius. And to Regulus. When he’d said as much to Remus, he’d been given that fond pitying look that meant the Remus was sure he was mad, but in an endearing way. Remus hadn’t come with. And Sirius understood why. But if Remus had been there, he might have stopped Sirius from pulling Regulus aside, from pleading with him to switch sides and from offering him the Order’s protection. 

As Sirius looked around the room, he decided to begin with the desk. It was a large mahogany thing, not that of a child or a young man, but the Blacks had never been much for children’s furniture. He opened the desk drawers and began to rummage through sheaves of parchment. Most were drafts of letters and notes left from NEWTS. He combed through old quills and trinkets, hoping to find something useful. Finding nothing, he moved on to the boxes under the bed. Most of these contained wizarding photographs. Close ups of magical plants, gravestones and what Sirius thought must be snake scales. Regulus had always loved taking photos. Sirius remembered him running around the house with the camera as child, taking blurry photos of household objects and good many with his own finger over the lens. But as he grew up he became more and more adept; he was careful and precise. 

Below the pictures of objects and the experimentations of light and color, there were portraits. Walburga sitting stiffly and staring at the camera, arms crossed. One of him and Reggie together cracking up. They had been messing about in the park, giving each other shit about whether the Wasps would beat the Kestrels. He tucked the photo into a pocket. 

He was looking through a stack of parchment when a cry startled him. “No!” yelled Kreacher. “You must not disturb Master Regulus’ things. You blood traitor scum.” 

No sooner had Sirius turned around than Kreacher tackled him, biting hard on his calf and continuing to yell, “You is not worthy to be touching his things.” 

“Yaargh!” Sirius howled. “Owwww. Fuck.” Sirius tried to shake him off, Kreacher was small, but his grip was strong. “Get. Off. Me.” 

Kreacher did as Sirius commanded, but he scowled. “Master Regulus was doing many brave and dangerous things, and you is nothing but a common criminal.” 

Sirius rolled his eyes and went back to searching the room, angrily now. Kreacher watched him like a hawk. Sirius became more and more exasperated as his search continued to prove fruitless. It was only as he was rifling through the robes in the closet that he began to turn Kreacher’s words over in his mind. He wheeled on the elf and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders. 

“What are the brave things Reggie did?” He shook him hard once. “Tell me!” 

Kreacher looked at him nastily, struggling against his impulse to obey. “I said, tell me.” Sirius’ voice cracked, and he took a deep breath, settling himself on the floor. “Please. I need to know.” 

Kreacher relented and began to speak. By the time he had finished his tale, Sirius was pale and his voice shaky. “Where’s the locket, Kreacher?” 

“That filthy criminal Mundungus tried to take it, when he took the silver. But I was not letting him. That locket is my responsibility, given to me by master Regulus, and I will not let anyone take it.” 

“Where is it? I think I can help you destroy it. Or at least, I know someone who can.” 

Kreacher looked at him defiantly. 

“Bring it to me! Now.”

For a long moment Kreacher visibly resisted, looking greener and greener until he disapparated with a loud crack. 

Long minutes passed. Sirius knew he should look for Kreacher, willed himself to move, but found that he hadn’t the strength. He kept playing it over and over in his head, the torture that Kreacher described. Reggie had died…for Kreacher, the noble git. He had always been too soft. Sirius was lost in his grief when was startled by another crack. Kreacher reappeared before him clutching an enormous gold locket to his chest. 

“May I?” Sirius asked, reaching out a trembling hand. 

Kreacher narrowed his eyes and then slowly unfurled his fingers and placed the locket in Sirius’ outstretched hand. Sirius tried to open it and when he couldn’t he pulled out his wand and tried several unlocking charms, none of which worked. “I’m taking this to Dumbledore. He’ll know what to do with it.” 

 

\---  
The lamps were dimly lit in the study and there was tea, but it went untouched; an air of tension hung over the room. Dumbledore had arrived precisely at 8:30, and Sirius told the story yet again. Picking up the locket and turning it over in his hands, Dumbledore inspected it carefully. Then he muttered several incantations. Remus and Sirius sat opposite him at the desk, watching and occasionally finding on another’s eyes. Sirius’ fingers clenched and unclenched around the arm of his chair. Finally, Dumbledore looked up at him with excitement in his bright eyes.

“I had not dared to hope, Mr. Black, but I felt sure that Regulus’ disappearance must have held some important information for us. I thought it might give us some vital clue. But I hardly expected you to find a horcrux in the possession of your house elf.”

Sirius’ jaw dropped. “You mean that’s…” 

“Yes. If you would permit me to take this?”

Sirius was still too gobsmacked to much more than gape and so Remus said quickly, “Of course. Do what you need to.”

Dumbledore nodded and slipped the locket into his robes. “It is my hope that within a few weeks we will be able to destroy not just this horcrux, but a second one as well.” Rising to leave, he shook Remus’ hand and patted Sirius gently on the shoulder. “Your brother was a brave man and we owe him a great debt.” Sirius nodded, cleared his throat, and made a hoarse noise of agreement. 

 

 **VIII. For Hours and Hours**  
When Albus returned to Grimmauld Place, they took their tea in the kitchen this time, bright and warm. The locket sat on the table between them. Albus still had not managed to open it. “I suspect that we will need Harry for this. I have asked Molly and Arthur to have him for the Easter holidays. You will keep the horcrux safe until then.” 

“Albus are you sure that’s wise?” Remus asked. 

“I wish there were another way. But this is it. We need a parselmouth.”

Remus sighed and looked meaningful at Sirius. 

“You know just as well as I do that he’s capable.” Sirius was irritated. 

“I’m not suggesting otherwise,” Remus said firmly, a note of compassion in his voice. “I just think that if possible he should be spared further experience of You-Know-Who.” 

Sirius blew out a breath. “He needs to be allowed to help.” 

Albus nodded. “While I wish we could spare him unnecessary pain, but there is no other choice. Unless you think Lord Voldemort would be so kind as to pop in and let us destroy a bit of his soul.”

Remus nodded in tacit agreement. 

“Now,” Dumbledore said, “I’d like to hear how your assignment is proceeding.” 

“I think I’ve worked out the best way to go about it, but it requires at least one other person. Burgin minds the shop by himself on Wednesday afternoons. I just need someone to distract him and then confound him while I take down the wards protecting the office where all the paperwork is kept.” 

Dumbledore looked at him thoughtfully and ran a hand through his beard. “Two weeks from tomorrow. I’ll assign someone who will meet you there just before closing.”

Remus nodded but Sirius said grimly, “Not Severus.” 

Albus sighed and made as if to argue, but Remus gave Sirius a hard look. 

“But Remus…he hates you.”

“Don't start," Remus bit out. He held Sirius' annoyed glance until the latter dropped his eyes. Remus turned back to face Dumbledore, schooling his face into a neutral expression.“I’ll be ready for whoever you send. Give them the password ‘hinky punks.’” And he stood up, extended a hand to Dumbledore and showed him out. 

He returned to see Sirius sulking. “Sometimes I really don’t understand you, Sirius.” 

“I was trying to help.” 

“Picking a fight with Severus does not count as helping, Pads.” 

Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“And further,” Remus continued, “how can you want Harry to do something so dangerous? But you don’t want me working with Severus, who I will remind you, is far less perilous than a horcrux.”

“That’s different.”

“Yes. It is. Harry is a minor. You are his guardian. It is your job to protect him and not to encourage Albus to take extra risks with his life. I, on the other hand, am a grown man and fully capable of taking care of myself.”

“I just don’t like the idea of you having to trust that greasy git, especially after what he did to you at Hogwarts.” 

Remus sighed. “I don’t much like it either, but we don’t have much a choice. And at least he’s an extremely competent wizard.” 

“You said before you aren’t sure you trust Albus. I was just trying to be cautious.” 

“This is exactly why I don’t trust him. He doesn’t really trust any of us, hides information. It breeds secrecy, lies. It’s part of why you switched with Peter. Why we….”

“You blame Dumbledore?” Sirius said curiously. 

“The fish rots from the head.” 

Sirius barked out a harsh laugh. “What on earth are we doing here then?” 

“I’m not sure we have another choice. The only formidable resistance to Voldemort is the Order.” 

“We need to be present for whatever he asks Harry to do with that horcrux.” 

“Exactly. And I don’t think we’re in more danger than is obvious poking around Knockturn alley, but I will be very cautious. There’s something Albus isn’t telling us, and it's more than just trying to keep Voldemort from legilemensing the whole horcrux plan out of any one of us.” 

Sirius nodded. “For now, I just need to focus on making sure Harry makes it through this okay.” 

**IX. In the Vase that You Bought**

They were gathered at the Burrow in the back garden, as far from the house as possible. Remus, Sirius and Harry stood in a tight circle, stamping their feet in the chill march air. It was a grey day, sprinkling rain. Tension ran through the group as they waited for Dumbledore’s arrival. There was a flash of blue light, and Albus appeared in a long peach mackintosh holding a tattered potholder in one hand, his other bandaged tightly.

“My apologies,” he said, dusting himself off. “Now, I think we are all aware of the task at hand.” Sirius, Remus and Bill nodded. Sirius squeezed Harry’s shoulder and let his hand rest there when he felt Harry lean into the touch just slightly. Albus conjured a large stone plinth, reached into an inner pocket of his mack, and produced a gold ring with a black stone, placing it on the plinth. Then, from another place in the coat, he pulled out a glittering sword of goblin crafted silver. Sirius gasped slightly as Dumbledore lifted the sword over his head and brought it down wordlessly on the ring. 

There was a flash and a cry of pain. Harry stepped back, cringing and bringing his hand to his scar. Blind panic overwhelmed Sirius--Remus had been right, involving the boy in this could only hurt him. And it was Sirius’ job to protect him. With instinct more than thought, Sirius reached for Harry, pulling him back by the shoulders until he had his arm around Harry’s chest, holding him tightly. He could feel the rise and fall of Harry’s chest as he tried to calm his breathing, ragged from the burn of the scar. Remus watched him from underneath the hood of his thick travelling cloak. Sirius met his eyes and inclined his head slightly in silent apology, hoping that Remus understood. Dumbledore rubbed at his shoulder a bit, but seemed satisfied. 

“The locket please, Sirius.” 

Letting go of Harry reluctantly, Sirius reached into his own robes and pulled out the horcrux, lowering it slowly onto the plinth. 

“Very good. Now Harry, I need you to go ‘round the other side.” He motioned to the far side of the plinth. “You will open the locket and hold it open while I run the sword through it.” 

Harry’s eyes widened, but he nodded mutely. It was Remus who said, “No,” in a tone that brooked no disagreement. “Sirius will do it.” Sirius met his eye briefly and saw the look of confidence in Remus’ solemn brown eyes. “He has the right to finish with Regulus started.” 

Harry relaxed marginally, and Sirius nodded. Then he turned to Harry looked him straight in the eye and asked, “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes.” Harry’s voice was quiet but it did not shake, nor did Sirius hear any hesitation there. 

“I’ll do it.” He turned to Dumbledore and held his hand out for the sword. “Ready?”

Harry nodded. 

“On my count. One…Two…Three.”

Harry made a hissing noise and the locket sprang open. 

Out walked a suave young Tom Riddle . “You’re just as spineless, weak thing,” it said, “A pathetic excuse for a godfather and friend. James trusted you. And he was wrong. They all know it. And they’ll all leave you in the end because you’ll let them down.” 

Sirius’ heart slammed into his chest. 

“Just like you did to Regulus and James and Lily. Remus, too. You’ll see. He’ll get tired of staying with such a sad sack like you.” 

This thing, this echo, it knew the truth, just like Sirius did. None of this would be worth it--even if somehow he managed to survive, Remus would leave him. He’d end up alone, rattling around in that big house forever. 

“You won’t be able to protect Harry, either. He looks up to you now, but it will be just like James all over again. When he really needs you, you won’t be there.” Sirius watched Harry struggling with the locket; it was his fault Harry was here. He should have put his foot down; Harry was his responsibility. But Sirius stood still, frozen, his knuckles white on the hilt of the sword.

Then suddenly, there was a hand on his back and a warm voice in his ear. “It’s all lies, Sirius. I’ll be with you always.” 

Harry was struggling to keep the locket open. “Now!” He yelled and Remus shoved Sirius forward. He sunk the sword into the locket and pulled it back out, dropping it the ground and painting hard.Remus patted him on the back and gestured to Harry to join them. Sirius pulled Harry in for a hug as they laughed in relief. 

Sirius was overwhelmed by it all—the feeling of having family again and the reality that James was really gone. He’d seen something in Harry today that he hadn’t before. Or maybe he just hadn’t been looking. There was a wide-eyed innocence a child that had been deeply wounded. Not just the boisterous risk taker James had been or even the happy-go-lucky baby riding a toy broom. The glint of determination that he’d seen in Harry today was all Lily. But now as he was enveloped in their arms, he let the truth of it all wash over him. 

Regulus had not died in vain; neither had James and Lily. He would make sure of that. Harry was the first to break the hug, mumbling something about not being able to breathe with his face in Sirius’ armpit. Remus laughed and let go. They made their way through the misty morning, boots squishing into the damp muddy ground. Remus slipped his hand into Sirius’, squeezing gently. Sirius smiled just barely and whispered a quiet, “Thanks” in Remus’ ear. The smell of Molly’s minestrone greeted them as they entered the Burrow. 

**X. Two Cats in the Yard**

The next afternoon the sun finally came out and Sirius suggested a walk with Harry. Being with the Weasleys, while a nice change from Grimmauld Place, could be taxing. He and Harry hadn’t had a moment to themselves.

Sirius used the cloak, after much badgering by both Molly and Harry about the defunct nature of his canine disguise. They walked in silence for the first ten minutes, Sirius huffing and puffing a bit because being hiding did not lend itself to staying fit. When they reached a clearing with a downed tree large enough sit on, Sirius cast muffliato. Groaning, he sat down on the log; his knees creaked. 

“Not as young as I used to be.” 

Harry looked at him with concern. 

“I’m fine. Sit down.” He patted the spot next to him. “Listen, Harry. I want you to be careful.” 

Harry’s head whipped up, and he glared at him. “How can you possibly say that? After what you pulled at King’s Cross? I thought you knew that I can handle myself.”

Sirius grimaced. “I know I don’t have much ground to stand on here. I haven’t exactly been a model of prudence myself. But I’m going to be more careful from now on, too.” 

“If you haven’t noticed, we’re the ones being hunted.” There was a shakiness in Harry’s voice. The pride of a teenage boy who did not want to cry and thought he might. 

Sirius put his hands up in a gesture of placation. “I know, Harry, I do.” 

“So what, just because I’m a kid I have to sit back and watch?” He kicked at the log. “Because when have I ever had a choice?”

Sirius looked at him soberly, “It’s not fair, Harry. Please believe me when I say that I knew how unfair this all is.” 

Harry snorted, but Sirius held up a finger and kept talking. “I don’t know how you feel. I’m not that stupid. I can’t know. Any more than James could possibly have understood me when I left home.” 

Harry blew out a long breath, still wearing a look of impatience. 

“You’re carrying a heavy burden. Much heavier than your father or I ever did at your age.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry bit out. 

“Yes, you saw our foolishness. We didn’t think we were being cruel, but the war sorted us out quickly enough. Or at least it gave us an appropriate outlet for that cruelty.” 

Harry’s eyes widened. “You mean…”

“War feeds off cruelty.”

“But you had to defeat him. What choice did you have? Or my parents? You had to.”

“We all made our choices, Harry. I’m not saying we chose wrong. I just want to be careful about how we go about it this time. You’re so much like them, Harry, not just how you look but your kindness and determination. Your insistence on seeing the good in people. Looking at you hurts sometimes because you’re the living embodiment of their love, of nearly everything that was ever good in my life. That’s what we’re fighting for. You were right, that night in the Shrieking Shack: we can’t afford to be petty or to forget our capacity for mercy. And we have to be strategic. I want you to survive this. So yes, you are being hunted. And no, it won’t stop. And yes, you are brave and capable. But I don’t want you to have to suffer any more than you already have.”

“I don’t either. But I can’t just sit and do nothing while the people I care about suffer. And while he’s still out there.” 

“You aren’t doing nothing. You’ve been teaching your friends to defend themselves, you stopped Arthur from getting hurt, and you just the order strike a crucial blow. And I’m proud of you for all those things. Remus is proud. James and Lily would be proud too. But most of all, Harry, what we want is for you to live. We need you to take occlumency seriously.” 

“Well that’s not going to bloody happen. How else am I supposed to know what he’s up to? It saved Arthur’s life, didn’t it?” 

“Voldemort won’t hesitate to use your connection against you.” 

“So?” Harry stared at him defiantly, full of anger. 

Sirius looked at him for a long moment, trying to come up with an appropriate adult response. If he were talking to James, he’d’ve just called him an arrogant self-righteous twat and told him to get over himself. But Harry wasn’t James. And Sirius was his godfather, not his best friend. 

“No one is asking you to sacrifice yourself. We want you to survive this, but the only way you will is if you also want to.”

Harry deflated, and Sirius saw a scared little boy sitting next to him. Sirius put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close. And Harry closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears that threatened to escape. 

“I don’t know if I can imagine it ever being over.” 

Sirius sighed and just held on until Harry shrugged him off. 

“But, if it does end...can I still come live with you?”

“Of course. I’ve always said so, haven’t I?” 

“Well I wasn’t sure since you and Remus seemed to be, er…” Harry gestured vaguely, and Sirius let out a true laugh. 

“Remus and I are partners, Harry. And when this is all over, it’ll be the three of us. That is…if you’re okay with that.” 

“Yeah.” Harry grinned, “I think I am.” 

“Good,” Sirius said. “Now help me up, my bum’s sore from sitting on this blasted log all morning.” The two of them walked back to the Burrow in comfortable silence. 

 

**XI. Now Everything is Easy**

In the weeks that followed, winter turned to spring, and even though Grimmauld Place remained as gloomy as ever, Remus often returned with fresh flowers so there was always a tall glass with blooms of gillyflower, henbane and daffodils. Dumbledore’s dismissal from Hogwarts meant that he was free to spend most of his time hunting horcruxes. At Hogwarts, Minerva finally located the Diadem of Ravenclaw and snuck it out of the castle to be destroyed by the Order. Poring over the files taken from Borgin and Burke’s, Remus and Sirius identified several potential horcruxes. In the first week of April, Dumbledore found evidence that the only remaining unidentified horcrux was hidden in the Gringotts. So it was in the beginning of May that he gathered the order at headquarters. 

The dining room was crowded and dimly lit. Extra chairs lined the walls as witches and wizards jockeyed for a place close to the head of the table. There wasn’t a lot of chatter; the escape from Azkaban of Voldemort’s supporters and the subtle disappearances of members of the Ministry’s muggle relations department left an air of tension in the room. Snape sat at the far end of the table, the usual sneer on his face. For once, Albus hardly needed to clear his throat to get their attention. 

“Good evening, my friends, I know there have been rumors about why we are gathered here tonight, so I will delay us no longer. There will be no reports tonight, other than that which I am about to give. Search and Retrieval has worked more quickly and been more successful than I could have hoped, when we began our work less than six months ago. We have found and dealt with all but two of the objects which we seek. It is this second-to-last one which we need your help with.” 

Dumbledore paused, taking a sip of water. The room remained quiet. Sirius shifted restlessly in his seat near the door. 

“There is an object which must be retrieved from Gringotts, a cup which once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. It is currently kept in the vault owned by Bellatrix Lestrange.” 

A murmur of shock rippled through the room. Dumbledore held up his good hand and the room stilled. “We need a team of several volunteers to accompany Bill Weasley. Luckily, and with many thanks to Bill’s hard work, patience, and superb negotiating skills, along with Madam Bones’ political standing, you will be accompanied by several goblins. Anyone who does not volunteer will be obliviated at the end of this meeting for his or her own safety.” 

A hand went up at the back of the room. “Yes, Molly?”

“How do we know that You-Know-Who hasn’t gotten to the goblins first, or that they won’t just double cross us for fun?” 

“The terms which we have offered them are those which they could not have passed up: sovereignty, at least in the UK.” Once again the room was abuzz with shock. 

“The time has come,” Dumbledore spoke firmly. “Raise your hand if you wish to join us on this difficult but vital task.” The room went silent. Moody raised his hand. Then Tonks. Sirius shifted, but Remus gave him a warning look. Slowly several other hands went up. 

“Thank you. Please go with Bill to the drawing room on the next floor, where you will receive your instructions. The rest can queue up, so that Severus, Sirius and I can perform the memory charm.” There was a great scraping of chairs, and muttering as members of the order gossiped as quickly as they could about all they had just heard. 

Sirius stood with Snape as they formed two lines. 

“Too bad your nursemaid won’t let you join up,” Snape muttered under his breath. “I bet they could really use your criminal expertise.” 

“I would shut the fuck up if I were you, seeing as I’m not the one with the Dark Mark tattooed on his arm.” 

**XII. Fiery Gems for You**

Now that the cup had been destroyed, Sirius found himself moping. He hadn’t left Grimmauld Place since the trip to the Burrow several months before, and not much had happened between the destruction of the last horcrux. That’s what war was always like, he reminded himself--long stretches of boredom punctuated by terrifying excitement. He wondered how he’d stood it as a young man. But it had all seemed exciting then, fresh out of Hogwarts, no longer living with James’ parents.

Now, he was made to sit with his pretty face while everyone else did the real work. In the early days, it had felt like his life was just beginning, everything burgeoned with possibility. All he craved these days was a bit of open air, and something useful to do.

It was a gorgeous early summer evening and Remus had gone to the shops, more to stretch his legs Sirius suspected than because breakfast would be a disaster without jam. So, without thinking too much about it, Sirius retreated into Buckbeak’s room, to give it a good scouring. Buckbeak was better company than he’d been during the winter; Sirius guessed it was something to do with the bit of light that filtered in through the room’s only window. He’d just finished the cleansing charms and was giving the bird a bit of attention when he heard a voice calling.

“Black! Black are you here? Please don’t tell me you’ve gone and risked us all by doing something rash? Come out at once!” 

Snape. Sirius contemplated hiding out with Buckbeak, avoiding the greasy git all together. But the calls became louder, and Sirius knew that sooner or later Snape would give up on propriety and use hominem revelio. So he sighed, gave Buckbeak on last pat on the beak and opened the door, calling out, “Up here!” 

The two men found each other quickly. 

“Black.” Snape was out of breath. 

“Severus? What’s the matter?”

“Potter. He’s...He thinks you’re at the Ministry, in trouble.”

“Fuck. We have to go. Now!” Sirius dashed towards the kitchen floo. Snape caught his arm, holding him still. 

“Think, Black. Take a breath.” Snape’s tone was sharp, but it forced Sirius to stop moving. All of a sudden, the portrait in the hall began to yell curses, and Lupin’s voice was barely discernable through the racket. 

“Sorry,” he said as he walked into the kitchen and noticed Snape and Sirius glaring at one another. “What happened?”

“It’s Harry.” 

“The Dark Lord set a trap and the foolish boy has been neglecting his occlumency.” 

Remus went pale. “We’ll go now. Severus, you get a message to Dumbledore and anyone else in the order you can reach.” He grabbed Sirius, who now seemed frozen to the spot in the kitchen, threw a handful of floo powder into the hearth, and pulled Sirius in with him. “Ministry of Magic!” 

The floo trip seemed to clear Sirius of whatever paralysis he had experienced, and the two of them raced to the Department of Mysteries. Images flooded Sirius’ mind: the pale, unmarked corpses of James and Lily as he’d found them in Godric’s Hollow the night of their death. Harry pale and still just like them. Harry split open, bloodied like Caradoc Dearborn had been. Harry’s body, maggotty and rotting the way they had found Marlene McKinnon. Harry was dead; they hadn’t get there in time.

When the reached the department, they found themselves surrounded by doors. Thank Merlin that the kids had smarts enough to mark the doors they’d tried but hadn’t been right. They couldn’t be sure that Harry had made it yet to the Hall of Prophecy, but it seemed like the only logical place to begin. Remus pronounced the spell that revealed the correct door, and they burst through it.

Remus headed straight for the aisle containing the prophecy, while Sirius checked the other aisles, but it was not long before they heard Lucius’ taunting voice and Harry’s defiant replies. 

“Over here!” Remus called, knowing that while it would mean alerting the Death Eaters to his and Sirius’ presence, it might distract them from doing Harry any harm. 

“I see the wolf and that no-good godfather of yours are here to fight your battles for you,” Lucius sneered. 

Remus shot a stunning spell, which Lucius dodged, but it gave him enough time to reach Harry and stand between them. Before Remus could catch his breath, a red jet of light came at them. He reacted with a stunning spell. 

“Harry,” Remus panted, “is it just you?” 

Harry shook his head. “Ron and Hermione. Other members of the DA.” 

“Where are they?” Remus and Lucius dueled, jets of light flashing back and forth. Bellatrix’s voice rang out, “Crucio!” and Harry ducked in the nick of time. 

“Dunno. We split up.”

Remus rolled his eyes, his mind running through possible tactics. As much as he didn’t want to put Harry at more risk, the most sensible thing to do was to send him back. “Get out of here, find them and go back to school.” The sound of the prophetic orbs smashing filled the hall, as more and more curses hit them, a cacophony of ghostly echoes proclaimed to no one. 

“But—”

Sirius had reached them, followed quickly by two masked Death Eaters. “No arguments. The Order is on its way, arriving any moment.” He thought for a moment that Harry might not go, but Harry just gave him a hard look. Before they could think, Sirius cast “Reducto” on a nearly destroyed shelf of prophecy. There was an enormous crash. The Death Eaters he was dueling jumped a mile out of their skin. And thankfully, Harry turned and ran. 

They were able to give him a bit of a head start, but it was only moments before Lucius shouted, “You fools, he’s getting away.” Remus and Sirius followed heavy on the heels of the Death Eaters. When they reached the circular entry hall, they saw that there was a battle in full swing. Kingsley, Tonks and the others had arrived. He dodged a green jet of light that swarmed toward him. 

“Harry?” he asked, standing back to back back with Kingsley as they faced Bellatrix and Rodolphus. 

“Through there,” Kingsley said quietly, nodding at one of the unmarked doors.

Remus nailed Rodolphus with a stunner and jumped over his body into the next room, where he found Harry shepherding a very confused Ron whilst Neville carried an unconscious Hermione and Luna helped Ginny limp towards him. Their bedraggled state didn’t give him much hope, but they were all alive and that’s what mattered. Remus knew if he could just keep them that way until they got out of the building, everything would be okay. 

“You found everyone?” 

Harry nodded. 

“Good man. We’ll cover you, just get back to the lobby and floo to Hogwarts. You’ll be safe there.” 

On the count of three, they exited the side room back into the hall, where spells were flying back and forth. Remus cast a shield enchantment over them, as Sirius and Kingsley providing a cover of stunning and body bind curses. The battle continued to rage. There was an earsplitting yelp. Remus saw Tonks go down across the room. Before he could think, a jet of blue light zoomed toward him. It just grazed his shoulder, tearing a searing burn into his skin. He wanted to cry out, but hissed instead, trying to shake it off. He clutched at it, pulling the cloth of his robes out of the wound without much finesse and casting a cooling charm. It would make the damage done worse in the end, but at least it cleared the pain enough that he could keep fighting. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Sirius’ shout came from behind. Remus turned just in time to see Sirius chase Bellatrix into an elevator as she followed Dumbledore’s Army. He wasn’t the only one to have noticed, and everyone, Death Eaters and members of the Order ran after them. He held a lift door open as Bill carried Tonks in and Fleur supported Kingsley who was limping. Just as the doors were closing, Yaxley tried to stick his hand into them. Fleur sent a jet of red light straight through the narrowing gap in the door, hitting Yaxley squarely in the chest. The stun knocked him over, and the doors to the lift close smoothly. Remus breathed in deeply and held it, trying to force the pounding in his chest to calm, timing his exhale with the smooth dinging noises of the lift climbing. 

“Atrium,” the cool voice announced as the doors slid open.

The first thing Remus noticed was that it was absolutely still. Voldemort stood in the center of the room. Harry was opposite him, and Remus’ heart jerked uncomfortably in his chest. The next thing he took in was Sirius’ face, gray with shock, and the tears running down Hermione’s cheeks. He followed their eyes and saw Dumbledore’s body laying on the ground next to Harry. 

For a moment it seemed far removed, like a dream, and then the reality of it hit him. Panic coursed through him, making his heart pound and his lungs feel tight in his chest. He stumbled forward out of the elevator, unsure of what to do next, when a loud booming echo stopped him in his tracks. 

“You see?” Voldemort’s voice echoed in the high-ceilinged atrium. “There is nothing that can be done. Dumbledore the fool is dead. I have his wand. And here you are, standing in front of me, ready to die in front of all your precious friends. What hope is there now for The Boy Who Lived?” 

Bellatrix broke the silence with a shrill peal of laughter. “No one can protect you now, you silly child!” 

“You have a choice, boy. Fight, and no one leaves here alive. Surrender, and we’ll let your friends go, provided they don’t make too much trouble for the new regime.” 

“Harry, no!” Sirius shouted. Harry had raised his hands in surrender, stepping forward. Remus watched, terror-stricken, as Sirius tried to place a hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry shrugged it off. “You have to let go, Sirius.” He spoke calmly, “Dumbledore, he told me this is what has to happen. Before you got here…” Harry’s voice broke and he swallowed. “I have to.” 

Sirius searched Harry’s eyes, but found none of the willful adolescence that he’d seen there so many times this year. They were bright and steady. Placing a hand on Harry’s shoulders, he said, “I’m sorry Harry, I can’t just stand by and let this happen.” 

The tension broke as if everyone had let out their breath all at once and then there was movement again. Remus came to stand beside Sirius. 

“Dumbledore said this is how it has to be!” Harry pleaded. 

“Albus was a wise man,” Remus spoke very gently, “But that doesn’t mean he was always right. It’s asking too much of you.” The color was rising in Harry’s cheeks. Before he could open his mouth to argue, Sirius spoke.

“And anyways, it won’t stop Voldemort. Any more than your dying would stop us from fighting him.” 

“Stand down,” the Dark Lord said. “I’m giving you the chance to live. Let the boy do as he wishes.”

“You heard him,” Harry said, “step aside.” 

“Harry, I can’t break the promise I made to James.” Sirius turned to Voldemort. “I will not.” 

“Enough!” screeched Bellatrix, and she hit Remus with a Crucio. He doubled over in pain. Kingsley took aim at her in retaliation, attempting to stop her with a body bind curse. But she anticipated him, and sent a stunner back. The atrium erupted with sound and motion, jets of light bounced off walls, paintings crashed to the ground, their gilded frames cracking and the portraits ran for cover. 

Sirius pulled Harry low, and they crept towards the wall where Neville had deposited Hermione and out of the center of the room.

Nagini made her way through the chaos, slithering towards them.

Then there came a sharp cry, and Fawkes dropped the sword of Gryffindor in front of Neville’s feet. He grabbed it, and rushed forward, tripping over Harry’s ankles and still managing to bring the sword down over the snake’s head. A terrible scream was heard through the hall, as Nagini writhed, black goo pouring out of the open wound, before she lay dead on the floor, floppy as a rubber snake. 

“Harry, did you see that?” Neville’s cheeks were red with pride. 

“Good one!” Harry answered and scrambled up. Sirius was already back on his feet, dueling Bellatrix. He dodged a Crucio and a stunning spell one right after the other, before he saw a look of determination come over her face, as she raised her wand. 

“Avada Kedavra!” 

Heads turned, and the entire room watched as Bellatrix Lestrange dropped to the ground. Sirius was standing with his wand held out, arm steady. Remus, who had been dueling Dolohov, let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and turned back, blasting him with a completely unexpected body bind curse. A surge of relief rippled through his body; he could feel the adrenaline thrumming in his veins. 

Sirius let both his hand and his jaw drop, as he looked at the body of his cousin, dead on the floor in front of him. He hadn’t time to breathe, before Voldemort had pointed his wand at Harry, shouted Avada Kedavra, and Harry dropped.

Sirius caught his body, limp and heavy. It was as if someone had knocked the wind out of him. Sinking to his knees, the whoops of joy and shouts of sorrow that filled the hall felt far away to him. Guilt washed over him, bile rising in his throat and James’ disappointed face burned into his mind. He laid Harry gently on the floor, kissing the top of his head. He felt wetness on his cheeks; he was crying, he realized belatedly.

Suddenly, he felt Remus wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him close. Remus’ wand arm was outstretched. A patronus in the shape of an enormous shaggy dog was circling them, absorbing the energy of the few spells still being hurled at them. 

Remus’ focus had narrowed suddenly; though there was a part of his brain telling him that he should be paying attention to the action, he could not bring himself to. He could not bring himself to do anything more than he was doing. He watched without really seeing. Heard Sirius cry and talk to Harry without really listening. He felt hollow inside. And so he let the battle rage, and just held on. They stayed like that for a long time, it felt like hours, but it could not have been more than a few minutes later, when Sirius sat up abruptly. 

“Remus?” Sirius shook him slightly. “Remus!” 

“What?” 

“I think I’m going mad. I swear I just saw him move.” 

Remus felt a wave of grief come over him. Sighing heavily, he wished fervently that Sirius would come to his senses. The thought of having to be the one to make Sirius know it was real made him sick. He didn’t think he had it in him.

But then, Harry’s eyes fluttered and then opened. “Oh.” Remus froze.

“Harry?” Sirius asked, as Remus tried to make a sound, but his throat had closed in shock. Harry groaned and he met Sirius’ eyes. “You’re alive? You’re alive, I can’t believe it, you’re alive.” 

Harry sat up, brushing off Sirius’ helping hand. “I feel fine.” 

The three of them looked around the room, bodies were strewn across the floor. It was hard to tell who was stunned and who was dead. But Sirius could see Bill Weasley’s red hair matted with blood, his throat open. An uneasiness hung in the air, but the worst of the fighting was over. The handful of remaining Death Eaters stood in one corner, laughing and beginning to celebrate, blocking off the floos and entrances to keep the remaining insurgents in, while Kingsley, Neville and several others were huddled nearby. 

“Pssst.” 

Neville turned to look at them and his eyes went wide. “Harry’s alive!” he whispered to the others. A jolt of electricity ran through their huddle. Sirius waved them over. Slowly making their way along the wall, the remaining members of the Order and the DA joined them, trying to look as somber as possible. Crouching around the space where Harry’s body had lain just minutes before, Sirius laid out a plan.

One by one, members of the Order and the DA spread out, under the pretense of examining the fallen, standing along the walls as far around as they could without provoking the suspicions of the Death Eaters. When they were in position, Harry, Remus and Sirius rose, and Harry stepped forward into the center of the room. 

“Tom Marvolo Riddle!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

Voldemort’s head snapped up, and he recoiled at the sight of Harry. But he stepped forward to meet him, face to face. 

“Well well… Harry Potter…The Boy Who Lived. I do not know how you do keep doing it. Yet here we are again.” 

“I have a power you can’t comprehend.” 

“Ah yes, ever the pet of doddering Dumbledore. Well, I’ve done it once already tonight and I doubt you will be so lucky a second time. And I must say you’ve made it quite easy for”—Voldemort raised his wand—”Avada—”

Six streams of green light from around the edges of the room hit Voldemort before he finished his incantation, and he dropped to the ground without a sound. 

**XIV. Such a Cozy Room**

There was a crack in the sitting room as Kreacher brought tea and a beef stew for supper. Remus who had been lying on the sofa, pushed up, with some help from Sirius, who adjusted the pillows and blankets. When the medi-wizards had examined Remus at the Ministry, they gave him several days’ worth of pain potion and orders to rest.

Sirius maintained that the definition of rest did not include making the Yorkshire cottage habitable after a year’s absence, and so they had returned to Grimmauld Place. Most of the DA were sent to St. Mungo’s, but Harry had managed to pass muster. Molly insisted that Harry stay at the Burrow, and Sirius acquiesced. He didn’t have the energy to fight with her about it, not while she was mourning a son and had another in hospital. 

Sirius and Remus had just tucked into their stew, when the floo roared and Harry stepped out onto the hearth. He didn’t look much different than just after the battle--he was still wearing the same dusty t-shirt and his hair stuck up all over as if it hadn’t been washed. Dark circles lined his eyes and his skin was pale. 

“Harry.” Sirius’ brow wrinkled. 

“Yeah?” Harry took a few steps into the room and then stood awkwardly, holding his arms close to his body.

“You look terrible. What’s going on?”

Harry looked at him, then at Remus and back again. There was a guardedness in his expression. “I’m fine,” he was defiant. 

Sirius raised his eyebrows, “I’m surprised Molly let you leave the house like that.” 

Sighing, Harry relented. “I haven’t been sleeping. Not since the…” 

He sank into an overstuffed chair, head in his hands. 

“You don’t have to do this alone.” Remus’ voice was gentle. 

“Mmph,” Harry mustered. 

There was a long pause, during which Harry slouched so far down, face still covered, that Sirius thought he might actually turn into a puddle. Sirius reached out by instinct, nearly touching Harry’s hair and then pulling back quickly. The movement startled Harry, who uncovered his face, “Mrs. Weasley is…she’s too busy trying to take care of all of them. Because of”—he swallowed—“because of Bill. My appearance isn’t exactly her number-one priority right now.” 

Harry looked small and pale, more like a child than Sirius had ever seen. Sirius’ heart burst with a strange combination of anger and tenderness that was entirely new for him.

“Harry what happened?” Sirius voice was soft. 

Harry stared at his shoes, when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, “I _was_ him. Lord Voldemort. He’d been…” He swallowed hard, “Living in me. The whole time.” 

Sirius knelt next to him and placed a hand on his knee. . “Maybe,” Sirius said, turning back to look Harry squarely in the eyes, “you shouldn’t be staying there just now. They need to be together as a family. And you need…well.”

Harry’s eyes flashed with fear and his body stiffened, as if he might actually crack apart. Sirius reached for him without hesitation, wrapping Harry in a hug. Holding him tight, Sirius spoke into his hair. “Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be alright. All I meant was that you should stay here with us.” 

He heard a muffled sound that resembled “What?” 

Remus smiled fondly at the two of them. “We’re headed home for real, in a few days. It’s not much, needs a lot of fixing up. But there’s always room for you.” 

“Really?” Harry brightened, his whole body lifting, as he sat up, “Thanks.” 

**XV. You Place the Flowers**

Like most other summer days in Yorkshire, the mid-August morning was mild. Remus was on his knees in the vegetable patch, weeding in the morning chill. Flowers were still blooming, and the garden of Remus and Sirius’ little cottage was a wash of pinks and blues and yellows. Remus had wanted to keep just the native thistles, but Sirius insisted on scattering seed and now Remus was glad of it. 

Sirius had sold Grimmauld Place and used the Galleons to fix up the cottage. He’d insisted on doing most of the work himself, enrolling Harry in the project. Remus sat back a moment to take a breath and watched as Harry and Sirius argued about the best way to hang a swing from the Sycamore in the middle of the garden. So far, together they’d managed to rebuild the crumbling stone walls of the house and secure the byre so that Buckbeak would stop running onto the road. Quidditch hoops had gone up yesterday. They would figure out the swing too, he was sure. 

Building things together was a chance for Harry to bellow at Sirius all he liked, and for Sirius to bellow right back. Eventually, they would both calm down, look over the instructions, dark heads bent together, and come to some reasonable plan for how the work ought to go. It took some convincing, but Sirius had finally agreed to hire a firm to fix the roof as well as to build the addition that would contain Harry’s bedroom and a study. Remus had agreed to most of Sirius’ requests for the latest wizarding appliances as they updated the kitchen and bathroom in exchange for keeping the bathroom roofless. Remus still wanted to bathe under the stars. 

Construction wizards were in and out of the house most days. Work was supposed to be finished by the time Remus and Harry returned to Hogwarts, but it was looking less and less likely. 

There was a pop near the garden gate, and an elderly man in lurid orange robes appeared carrying a heavy leather case. Remus stood up, knees creaking, and went to him. “Can I help you?” 

The man’s voice was cracked and soft. “I’m here about the piano.” 

Remus looked confused. Sirius looked up and jogged over. 

“Mr. Vance, so glad you could make the trip out here. The piano’s just through here,” and Sirius led him up the path into the house. 

Remus gave up on weeding and helped Harry with the swing. Once the piano tuner had gone, Sirius came out to admire their work and send them on an errand. 

“Can you two make a run to Hogsmeade for me today? Seems I’ve misplaced the level. Don’t hurry, supper will be ready when you get back.” He winked at Harry. 

“Oh…er…right.” Harry said a little louder than was necessary. “Remus can we make a stop at Zonko’s? I’d like to…er…stock up for the year. Sirius promised to teach me all the marauder secrets.” 

Remus looked at them suspiciously and then nodded slowly. “I’d better not catch you at it, though. In fact, probably better if I step into the Hog’s Head for a cuppa while you’re there.” 

When they returned late in the day, there was a lovely smell of pot roast in the kitchen, and the living room looked cleaner than it had in weeks. Harry’s things, which had been previously strewn across the floor, had been tucked away, and the piano had been dusted. The table was adorned with a bright yellow cloth and had been set. A green porcelain vase that Remus had picked up in a charity shop a few weeks earlier was filled with flowers from the garden, sat in the center. Sirius was whistling blithely in the kitchen, a tea towel slung over his shoulder. 

“Sirius?” Remus called as he dusted himself off. Harry plopped their packages on the settee. Turning around to greet them, Sirius wore a huge grin. 

“Moony! Harry! Supper is served.” He bowed slightly, and they all laughed. 

“What’s going on?” Remus elbowed Harry, who said nothing, but who could barely suppress a grin. 

When they had washed up and were seated at the table, Sirius made a big show of pouring wine and raised his glass. “I have news.” 

Remus raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a serious face. 

“A few days ago, I had a visit from Min—Professor McGonagall, your new headmistress. And she was in a bit of a bind, so I agreed to help her out. Temporarily. I’ll be teaching Transfiguration at Hogwarts! That’s what we’re celebrating!” 

Remus smiled. “That’s great!” 

“You’re not surprised.” 

Remus shrugged.

“She told you!” Sirius sighed. “No snide comments then, from king of snark?” His tone was teasing, but Remus could see beyond the bravado. 

“Sirius, you’ll be an excellent teacher. Just try not to give them too many ideas for pranks to pull.” 

“Where would the fun in that be? They’ll have to figure it out for themselves.” Sirius’ eyes twinkled.

Soon they were all munching happily on dinner when Sirius exclaimed, “Oooh! I almost forgot! Presents. I have presents.” He jumped up and ran out, returning with two boxes, one for Harry and one for Remus. Sirius looked at them expectantly, and Harry opened his slowly. He pulled out a very small black kneazle, with pointy ears and a lightly plumed tail.

Remus rolled his eyes and then opened his gift as a tiny “meow” emerged from it. He held out a skinny tabby kneazle, as far away from him as possible. 

“Sirius, I thought we talked about this. Animals don’t like me. And Harry has Hedwig, he can’t take two animals to school.” 

“Just give them a chance. And Harry won’t take it to school. They’ll stay here with us. We’re both commuting, after all.” Sirius eyes were wide; Remus could tell he wanted to keep them.

He sighed. “Two weeks. I’ll give it two weeks.” There was resignation in his voice; he knew he had already lost. Meanwhile the kneazle in his hand had begun mewling, and he scratched its ears trying to quiet it. It pushed its head into his hand for more, purring loudly. A look of satisfaction came over Sirius’ face. 

**XVI. Our House**  
It was a rainy Sunday evening, Sirius and Remus had both finished their marking, and the house was finally complete. The fire in the hearth kept the cottage warm and Remus sat at the piano, Sirius sat with a cup of tea. He half listened to the music and half read a muggle book on Pedagogy that Remus had recommended. Misty, the tabby kneazle sat in his lap, purring softly. Her counterpart was nowhere to be seen, probably curled up on Harry’s bed, his favorite spot to kip.

A line of music, something that sounded like “Padfoot,” caught Sirius’ attention, but he wasn’t sure he’d heard it right. 

“But still I love him, can’t deny it,  
I’ll be with him—

“What’s that you’re playing?” he interrupted the chorus. 

Remus looked at him sheepishly. “It’s just an old folk tune from around these parts. I might have changed the words a bit…” 

Sirius’ eyebrows went up. “Let’s hear it then.” He smiled and listened intently as Remus began to play and sing, louder this time. 

When I was a child, he was my first friend  
Who among us knew how it would end  
But still I love him, can’t deny it,  
I’ll be with him wherever he goes.

He turns into padfoot and chases his tail,  
He ate his own homework, and still didn't fail  
But still I love him, can’t deny it,  
I’ll be with him wherever he goes.

When we were eighteen we fought in the war  
I wish I had trusted him more and more  
But still I love him, can’t deny it,  
I’ll be with him wherever he goes.

He thought i was spying for you know who  
T'was too dang'rous for me ever to do  
But still I love him, can’t deny it,  
I’ll be with him wherever he goes.

He spent time in Azkaban, thirteen long years  
Dementors haunted him, causing his tears  
But still I love him, can’t deny it,  
I’ll be with him wherever he goes.  
He bought me a kneazle e’en though I hate cats  
At least we agree that we’ll kill the rats  
But still I love him, can’t deny it,  
I’ll be with him wherever he goes….

Sirius’ smile widened, and he basked in the glow of home.

**Author's Note:**

> Song adapted from "Still I Love Him" a yorkshire folk song of 20th century origin. http://www.yorkshirefolksong.net/song.cfm?songID=33


End file.
